


Urban Legend - Heroes never die

by Arches67



Series: Meeting of heroes [9]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Person of Interest (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 20:17:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9920693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arches67/pseuds/Arches67
Summary: John had promised he would tell him the truth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AN. A new story in the Urban Legend universe. You'll need to have read the previous stories for this one to make any sense.
> 
> I really thought my last story (Urban Legend – The end of a hero) was the last one of the series. But I was so sad to realize I wouldn't get to write about those two characters…
> 
> I like to keep to canon, so there is nothing much I can do about John's death.
> 
> But then again, Urban Legend happened in the "POI" universe. What if the story had happened in Matt's world?
> 
> John died in the "Bad Robot" universe. Daredevil lives in the "Marvel" universe. So here is my take on how it could have ended in the Avengers universe…
> 
> Just a shameless excuse, farfetched story, to write an extra episode with Matt and John.

 

* * *

 

_Hell's Kitchen, New York, midnight_

Daredevil continued punching the man's face a few more times than necessary. The old lady mugging thug had passed out a few punches ago, but the adrenaline was still rushing and Matt needed the release. All the thugs he had stopped tonight would need a visit to the hospital before they could be processed by the cops.

Tough luck for them, but Matt needed to vent his frustration. That morning he had buried his friend John.

He raised his head to let the woman know she was safe now, but he couldn't hear her. She had gone. Well, he wasn't expecting any thanks anyway. Running up to the closest stairs he soon was on his favorite playground - the rooftops of New York.

Even though he was high up he kept his attention fixed on the streets below, listening to any call for help and trying to get his breath back, his mouthfuls of air loud to his own ears. Which explained why the voice suddenly talking to him made him jump in surprise.

"You're a hard man to find Daredevil," said the voice in a slightly amused tone.

Moving to a fighting stance, Matt turned around ready to defend himself if necessary. He tilted his head. There was an unusual hum around the man. Almost as if he had an electric device with him. A swooshing noise finally made him understand who the stranger was.

"Ironman," he stated.

The two of men had met before. Stark had actually asked him to join the Avengers team, but Matt had turned down the offer. Not used to being said no to, Stark had then asked him if Matt, the lawyer, would accept to help them if the need arose. Wanting to get rid of the man, Matt had accepted; doubting that he would ever be called. Stark probably had a full army of lawyers. He didn't need a small firm like Nelson & Murdock.

What he hadn't anticipated was that from there on Stark would be keeping an eye on his activities, and would sometimes show up to just say hello.

"Stark, today is really not a good day."

"Too many villains around?" Stark joked. "Need some help?"

"No." Matt sighed deeply. "Just a bad day."

"That happens."

"If you not here for an actual reason, I'll be on my way," said Matt turning around.

"Actually I have been looking for you. I needed to talk to you."

"Yes?"

"I..." Stark hesitated for a second. He realized that it was likely that Matt knew he was following him, but by admitting he knew about John, he was actually confirming the fact "I found one of your friends. He's at the Tower."

Matt turned back to Stark, his stomach knotting in a painful ball. He didn't have that many friends. The idea that Foggy or Karen were hurt was making him dizzy.

"It's John." Stark added almost as an afterthought. "I thought you might be able to get in touch with his family."

"John?" Matt repeated not understanding

"I don't know his last name, but since he's your friend, I thought you'd be able to help... He barely made it out of there alive, but docs are saying his chances are better now."

"John?" Matt repeated again. This didn't make any sense.

Stark finally seemed to notice the confusion. He approached Daredevil, and extended a hand. "Matt, what's wrong?"

"There's only one John I can think of as a 'friend'... And we buried him this morning." Matt swallowed hard. "He was killed in that explosion last week. You probably heard about it, the building rooftop that was destroyed by that missile."

"Oh..." Placing his hand softly on his arm, Stark gently pushed Matt toward a low wall and made him sit down. The man was in for a major shock.

"I... I was on that rooftop. I was even blown away by the blast, but I managed to pull John out right before the explosion."

"How do you even know about John?" Matt asked trying to make sense of the information.

"Hu..." Stark seemed to hesitate for a second. "I've kind of been keeping an eye on you."

"I know; I just hadn’t realized you’ve been watching me that closely…” Matt hadn’t seen John that often in the couple of years they had known each other.

"Yeah… Well… I do appreciate the work you do in Hell's Kitchen. Saw you and John a few months back. You were obviously drunk and you still gave a run for his money to some kid that was after your wallet."

"Oh."

Matt perfectly recalled that evening, and the massive hangover and splitting headache the following day.

He pulled his helmet off to rub his eyes. He still didn't understand how Stark could say he had saved John. The autopsy had clearly identified John, through his dental records. Apparently there hadn't been much to identify him by.

"But they said he was dead," Matt said again as if it made a difference.

"Mistakes happen," Stark said understanding the confusion of the lawyer.

"We're talking about a human life, not the color of your next car!" Matt exclaimed explosively.

"Hey, I thought you'd be happy to know he's alive..." Stark shot back.

Matt sighed deeply, letting his head fall. "Sorry. Just a bit too much to process... I...are you sure that it is…"

He realized he was scared to allow himself to rejoice in the news in case it turned out to be wrong. How could Stark be that sure that the person he had saved was indeed John?

"Why don't you come and see for yourself, in case I'm mistaken. Which if I am, I don't know how I'm going to apologize..."

"Yeah, okay." Matt pulled his helmet on. "I just need to change..."

Stark chuckled. "No one will give a second glance at your suit in the Tower, you know."

Matt winced. Of course. If there was one place where he could show up in his armor…

* * *

 

_Manhattan, a few days earlier_

Ironman, aka Tony Stark, was flying over New York testing a new device he had installed in his armor.

Despite the years he had been doing this, he still felt the same thrill. Soaring above the buildings and the canyon-like streets was always a bit like magic.

"Everything is operating as planned, Sir." Jarvis' voice reported.

"Of course it is." Modesty was not part of Tony's character.

A red light appeared suddenly on his screen, and Tony felt his suit pulling toward it, as if attracted by a magnet.

"Jarvis, what's going on?"

The computer, with the voice of the English butler, didn't answer.

"Jarvis!" Tony yelled.

"Sir, I believe we have been hacked…" Jarvis sounded almost apologetic as if feeling responsible for such a disaster.

"Impossible. My systems are impenetrable."

Rather than arguing and pointing out that they just had proof of the opposite, Jarvis kept running his diagnosis.

"It is however not a hostile interference."

"Jarvis, logging into a system without proper authorization is by definition hostile."

During their discussion, Stark was slowly but surely being pulled toward a specific direction.

"I mean, that whoever has entered our system is not accessing our data. Actually, they have only sent us a live feed."

"Put it on my screen," Tony ordered.

The image showed the top of a building. A group of heavily armed men were shooting at a man in a suit and white shirt, covered in blood. The situation seemed highly unfair.

Zooming in on the view, Stark couldn't help a surprised gasp.

"I know that guy," he muttered.

"Which 'guy' sir?" There were after all several people on the rooftop.

"The one that's being turned into a shooting target."

Pushing his thrusters, Ironman went toward the building.

"Sir, there is an incoming missile headed straight at that rooftop. You may wish to stay away," Jarvis warned.

"Got to save him."

"Sir, there's no time. The impact is due…" Jarvis didn't have time to finish his sentence before the explosion.

Ironman had managed to grab the man's jacket collar a mere second before the missile impact. Caught in the blast he was twisted around several times before he managed to control his movements again.

"Sir?"

It was several seconds before Stark answered.

"I've got him Jarvis." He was now holding the body, an arm around firmly around its waist.

"Him, Sir?"

"He's a friend of Matt. John something."

"Matt? As in Daredevil?"

"Yes. God, this guy's got more holes in him than a sieve. Jarvis, get a medical team ready, I'm coming in."

Flying as fast as he could toward the Tower, Stark looked more closely at the body he was holding wondering if maybe he shouldn't have left him on the rooftop; it might have been kinder in the long run. He looked more dead than alive…

* * *

 

_Hell's Kitchen, a few weeks later_

Matt was seated on the second pew of the church. His head bowed, he was praying.

He wasn't asking for forgiveness for his acts. He was praying for a friend, asking God to help John recover.

A few weeks earlier, after a surreal meeting with Ironman, Matt had discovered that John, whose funeral he had attended that same day, was actually alive.

Entering Stark's tower should have been overwhelming. Some people would kill to get invited, but he was so worried about the astonishing news Stark had provided, that as far as he was concerned it could have been any building in town.

He had been assaulted by the smell of the antiseptics and noise of the machinery. Almost drowned by all the monitors, he had a hard time finally hearing a heartbeat. He had needed a few minutes before being able to raise his hand to run it over the man lying on the medical bed.

He still remembered the day he had "looked" at John's face with his fingers. It had been on Christmas day; after he had almost frozen to death. John had actually asked him if the whole running the fingers over a face was something he did. He was a bit curious as to how Matt could imagine people's faces. Raising his hand, Matt had discovered the face of his savior, a good looking face, with high cheekbones and a marked stubble. He still remembered how John had tensed, obviously not used to such a familiar gesture. He was glad now that he had done it even though at the time it had been more of a joke.

He couldn't help a gasp. It was indeed John. With the whirlpool of emotions going through his mind, he hardly registered Stark explaining that John had barely made it alive, coding several times on the operating table. To help his body heal they had put him in induced coma, but for the first time the doctors were starting to feel hopeful. Which was why Stark had gone out and searched for Matt.

"I didn't want you to go through the worry of the false hope. He may still not make it, but the docs are hopeful. He's being looked after by the best team you could ask for."

He had visited John several times during those last weeks, doctors ensuring him that he was indeed getting better. This morning Stark had called to let him know they were bringing him out of coma. He was hoping Matt would be around. Waking up among strangers, in an unknown place, was going to be stressful. Having a familiar face around would be helpful.

Considering the damage John's body had suffered, Matt couldn't help but worry how far he would recover. A man like John would have a hard time living with a crippled body. Hence his presence at the church, only God could help him now.

"Hello Matt."

"Hello Father."

"I haven't seen you pray in a while," Father Lantom said, sitting by his side. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Pray with me?"

"Did you do something you regret?"

"No. Nothing like that." Matt sighed. "I'm praying for a friend."

"I'm glad to see your activities still allow you to make some friends."

"I don't have that many," Matt admitted.

"Why does he need your prayers?"

"He was severely injured in an accident. I don't think he can cope with a crippled body if he doesn't fully recover."

"I believe if anyone can help him, Matt…" Father Lantom put his hand over Matt's. "You're the best example that a disability isn't necessarily one."

Matt made a face. He had been a kid when he had lost his sight. He had had all his life to learn to cope with it… and truth be told, tell people what they were expecting to hear. Not seeing still sucked…

"I just want it to be easier on him."

"You are a good friend Matt. God will answer your request. Let's pray."

Bowing their heads, both men prayed in the comforting silence of the church.

* * *

 

John started to come around. But coming out of the darkness was difficult.

He could hear voices around him, but the energy needed to try and understand them robbed him of the last of his strength and darkness surrounded him again.

It kept happening again and again. The voices, the awareness of light followed by the impossibility of coming out of the haze.

Opiates he thought once. He had been drugged, heavily drugged. He couldn't feel his body and apparently his eyes wouldn't open either. He grunted trying to move but to no avail.

One of the voices sounded familiar but it seemed so far away he wasn't even sure if it was real or just a memory.

Hours, weeks, months, it could have been years later, he managed to open his eyes. And his heart jumped in fear. Years of spying never made awakenings easy. A deeply ingrained flight or fight response kicked in and forced his body to move before he could even process the situation.

A hand touched his shoulder and a voice spoke to him. "Relax John. You're safe."

Matt?

He turned his head to watch. The young lawyer was by his side, a small smile on his lips.

"About time you woke up. I was starting to get bored."

"Matt?" John croaked. His throat felt raw. He closed his eyes trying to swallow. A straw magically appeared at his lips.

"Take small sips sir," said a woman's voice.

The cool liquid felt wonderful and he sighed in comfort, falling back asleep.

Matt chuckled. "Okay, I was hoping we'd have a longer chat…"

"It's the longest he's been awake for so far, Mr. Murdock. That's progress," the nurse said.

"I know, and I'm glad."

"It's going to be a long road to recovery."

* * *

 

It took a few more days before John was able to keep awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

Entering the room, Matt saw him with his eyes closed, relaxed, but from the speed of the heartbeat not asleep.

"John?" he called softly.

The eyes opened immediately.

"Matt!" he exclaimed, his surprise obvious on his face.

Matt chuckled. "Yes, me again, though obviously you don't remember it."

"We talked before?" John asked frowning.

"I wouldn't call it conversations. You did recognize me which made everyone here happy." Matt came closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was broken into a thousand pieces and glued back together, but not in the right way?"

"Not far from the truth. The doctors talked to you?"

"Probably. I can't seem to be able to focus."

"Are you hurting?"

"No, not at all," John replied hastily.

Matt tilted his head as if expecting a comment. It took John a few moments to understand.

"Oh. I'm so drugged up that it's a wonder I'm not seeing pigs fly?" He finally understood why everything seemed surrounded by wool.

"Something like that."

"Where am I?"

"Nobody told you?" Matt asked in surprise.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"What do you remember?"

John closed his eyes and sighed. "I was going to die… But that was okay. I was glad I could save him…"

Him. Matt didn't need to ask who the "him" was. Finch had already told him that part of the story.

"Ironman saved you. You're lucky he was flying above that building."

"Stark?"

"Yes."

Astounded, John didn't say a word. Matt was going to tell him he was in the medical facility of the Avengers Tower when he realized John had fallen back asleep.

"Having conversations with you was never easy because you wouldn't talk. But falling asleep is pushing it a step too far John," Matt teased.

* * *

 

John was watching the TV monitor without really paying attention. Some movie… He was starting to get seriously bored, and knowing that it would be a while before he would be able to move was not helping.

The only thing he looked forward to were Matt's daily visits. Otherwise, the day was spent mostly resting or undergoing painful manipulations by the doctors. His body had been shredded and putting it back together was anything but pleasant.

Stark entered the room carrying a mobile phone.

"Here. I thought you might want to call some friends."

"I don't really have that many friends to call..." John admitted. "Especially considering they think I'm dead."

"Well, at least the one that saved your life."

"I thought _you_ saved my life…" John frowned nonplussed.

"Because your friend managed to hack my computer and send me your location. To which I must add a) he better not do that again because I'll be much less understanding and the retaliation could be nasty, b) I want to meet him because I really want to know the person smart enough to manage what he did."

John was left staring. He knew only one person who could do that, but he also knew that Finch wasn't in any condition to manage it at that moment. Which only left another explanation. It wasn't a human who had warned Stark. The Machine had taken upon itself to save one of its assets. Way to go! Making it an open system like Root had always wanted had proved to be a hell of a good idea.

Stark mistook the surprise on John's face.

"You don't know who saved you?" he asked. "He also made sure you were declared dead at the explosion, Detective John Riley." His tone clearly indicated he had his doubts about the name.

"Some mistake in the data probably," John answered seemingly unfazed. The Machine had really covered all issues.

"Yes. But what are the chances that the person you are mistaken for happens to be at the same place from where I saved you?"

A chuckle behind him distracted Stark.

"Good luck with that Tony. I've known John for a couple of years now, and I sort of gave up trying to understand him. He's a very private person…"

"I'll let you enjoy your visitor, John. But this conversation is not over." Stark left the room with a frown.

"You're going to have to tell him who you are exactly John. He's not going to let you go as easily as I do."

John sighed. "Yes, I know. And since I owe him my life I'm indebted, so I guess I will have to fill in the major lines."

He settled back more comfortably. "But for now, I want to know about your day, or rather your night."

It had become a habit. Matt would show up when he could and tell him about his work at the office, and more often than not about his nights as Daredevil. It felt good to be able to talk about it and John appreciated the entertainment.

"Yesterday some guy thought he could get an advantage if he went up the roofs…"

* * *

 

It was a few days later. They had been talking for a little while but Matt had the feeling John was getting a bit restless, but given the situation there wasn't much he could do about it.

However, when John seemed to drift away and not listen to him anymore, Matt focused more intently on the body. He had avoided doing it as much as possible, wishing to give John his privacy. He frowned; something was definitely wrong.

"John, what's going on?"

"Sorry?" asked John truly at a loss. Concentrating was starting to prove difficult.

"What did you do?" Matt had a confused face. "You seem to be in a lot of pain, I don't understand."

John scoffed. He had fooled the doctors so far, but Matt was, again, way too perceptive. The light movement however made him wince.

"Do you want me to call the nurse?" Matt offered.

"No!" John exclaimed promptly raising a hand as if to stop him.

"John…"

John closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"I…" He sighed. "I thought I could do with fewer drugs in my system. They make me dizzy and I can't seem to be able to concentrate properly."

"How long have you been throwing them away?" Matt asked in a calm voice, understanding why John had acted that way.

"Yesterday," John admitted.

"All of them?"

"Yeah…" John whispered.

Maybe he should have kept taking some. His body was just a huge screaming wound. He hadn't realized it was that bad. He had seen the damage when the nurses had changed the bandages, but the drugs had been doing their job so well he had totally underestimated the level of pain.

He could now feel the sweat sliding down his face. From past experience, he was knew that he was just a few minutes away from passing out.

"Why didn't you discuss it with the doctors? Maybe reduce the dosage, but stopping them like that. Hell, that can't be good for you John. You are seriously injured."

Matt raised his head in sudden alarm. John had just passed out.

"Damn stubborn fool…" Shaking his head, he pressed the call button for the nurse.

She was there immediately and frowned when she saw John.

"What happened?" she asked. Holding John's wrist to check his pulse.

"He hasn't been taking his pain killers," Matt explained.

The nurse made a face and pressed the call button for assistance. She needed a doctor.

"Mr. Murdock, would you please leave the room? We need to take care of him."

"Yes, of course."

He could hear feet running toward the room as he left the floor. He could totally understand what John had done, he hated drugs himself, but given the level of damage John didn't really have any choice. John himself was going to be the greatest danger to his own health. Men like him didn't live well being cooped up in a room. He could only pray that recovery would come fast.

John regained consciousness a while later and he immediately could feel the woolly headed effect of the painkillers. He wouldn't complain yet, not feeling the pain was nice for the moment.

"Welcome back, John." Stark's tone was slightly patronizing.

John blinked and turned his head towards the voice.

"Stark," he croaked.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you."

Tony rose from his chair and approached the bed.

"John, I respect your right to decide what you want to do with your life."

John winced. He hadn't been trying to kill himself by stopping the drugs, but of course death wasn't still totally off the table considering the damage to his body. Stopping the drugs hadn't been a smart move; he had realized that a little belatedly.

"However, I am going to ask you to also respect the fact that I saved your life. I haven't mentioned it earlier, but I was caught in the blast of the explosion. Being spun around like tumbleweed is definitely not my idea of fun. Therefore, if you wish to end your life, at least have the decency to wait to be out of these facilities."

Stark looked at him with a serious face.

"The medical team has done a wonderful job of keeping you alive. The least you could do is appreciate their work while you are here. The doctors won't take it lightly if you die. And believe me there's one of them you do not want to make angry…"

John winced realizing who Stark was talking about; yeah probably, he thought.

"I am grateful for what you and your medical team did, Stark. I never intended to end my life," John explained.

"Not taking the medication the doctors instructed wasn't a very smart move, John."

"I know that… now." Better take the opportunity to negotiate the issue. "But the drugs side effects are anything but pleasant. I feel like my brain is disconnected."

Stark tilted his head. "Part of the idea of those drugs is to convince your brain you are not hurting when you in fact are in tremendous pain. You can't blame it if it gets confused."

"Can you reduce the dosage?"

"You'll have to discuss that with the doctors. But considering the stunt you just pulled, I'm guessing you should find grounds for discussion."

"Thank you," John whispered.

"I'll let you rest." Stark said moving toward the door. He turned before leaving, "and next time you need something, just ask! You are not a prisoner, John."

John answered with a polite smile.

Not a prisoner, of course, but he could still feel the walls closing on him. He had never coped well with being hurt. He usually took off as soon as he could walk, but this time it was taking far too long and making him reckless. He sighed. He was going to need to tap deep into his patience, consider this as a very long stake out…

* * *

 

"Hey, you're sitting!"

Matt had entered the room and stopped at the door. He hadn't been able to come for several days, too busy between his work at the office, cold nights that hadn't stopped street thugs and trying to salvage some time with Karen and their relationship.

John was sitting in a wheelchair. It had taken a lot of arguing to convince the doctors that he was ready to leave the bed. Of course, passing out from the pain because he had started hiding the pills instead of taking them hadn't really helped his case, but at least it had convinced the doctors that they needed to let him move or it would only get worse.

"You should really stop doing that considering the place we are." John shook his head in amusement, not surprised one bit that Matt could tell he was sitting and not lying down on his bed.

"You don't seem surprised that I know," Matt answered with a smile.

"Most of the time I sort of forget you are blind, so your tricks don't work with me."

"Not good. I'm going to have to come up with new stuff if you're already so jaded."

"I'm not. I still think you are amazing. But one of these days, Stark is going to enroll you in his team."

"Nah…" Matt waved the comment with his hand.

"How can you know?"

"He already offered me to join the Avengers but I turned him down."

"You turned down working for them?" John repeated slowly as if that didn't make any sense.

"First of all I'm not a superhero." Matt raised his hand stopping John before he could talk. "No, we already had this conversation. They can save the world; I'll keep helping the good people in Hell's Kitchen. Unfortunately there are enough bad guys for everybody."

"Your choice."

Matt looked in John's direction with a hint of a smile.

"You ever wondered why I was here when you woke up?"

The silence from John was eloquent. Matt couldn't help a chuckle.

"Don't beat yourself up. They had you on some pretty strong stuff. It's not surprising that you have had some memory lapses."

John grunted rubbing a hand over his face.

"Don't remind me. Made me act a bit stupidly a few days ago," he admitted.

"Yes, about that. John, you're crazy. You almost died. Hell, you did die! You coded several times on the operating table. It's a miracle you are alive."

John waved his hand. "Save me the lecture please. The doctors took care of it." He sighed. "And my body has made it completely apparent that I still need them."

"That'll teach you. If you could refrain from passing out in front of me next time…"

"Matt, I seem to remember that you're not very fond of drugs either…"

"But I have other ways to cope."

"Maybe you should teach me," John said, remembering the time Matt had helped him with meditation techniques.

"Of course. It's not as if you don't have time to practice..."

"So I've been meaning to ask - how did you know I was here?" John asked, really curious now.

"You're going to love this," Matt exclaimed sitting down more comfortably.

"Does this have anything to do with the fact that you turned down working for the Avengers?" John was sure he wasn't going to like Matt's explanations.

"It does indeed. Stark has been watching me and hence has seen us together. He recognized you on that rooftop. Since apparently you didn't have any ID on you, he came to me. He thought I would be able to reach out to your family."

"I don't have any left," John informed him.

"I know. Or… I guess I presumed that." Matt frowned. "You never talked about anyone. And your only friends think your dead…"

"Thank you for being there. And you have a life of your own; you don't need to come so often," John added. Matt had been spending an awful lot of time with him in the past weeks.

"I'm glad to come. Especially since I see that they let you sit down finally. How do you manage the wheels?"

"As far as wheel chairs go, I cannot complain. This is more like a relaxation sofa with wheels, amazingly comfortable. I'm just being careful with the commands. I'm pretty sure one of these buttons is a photon torpedo launcher," John added looking at the complicated dashboard.

Matt laughed. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a Star Trek fan. More James Bond and Samurai movies."

"I do like them. But I was a kid before I became a spy."

"If I had known it just took a missile to have you admit so freely that you were a secret agent…"

"I am being held in the Avengers Tower, Matt!"

He was still having trouble processing that part. Of course, like anyone else, he had witnessed what Stark and the other guys did. But saving the planet, or New York, from aliens was so farfetched that he just tried to ignore it. They existed, they intervened when necessary, but most of the time you just didn't think about them.

So being actually saved by a superhero and being treated in their HQ had a surreal feeling compared to which admitting to be a spy was totally irrelevant.

"Held? I'm pretty sure you're not a prisoner and you can leave anytime."

"Don't mistake me. I'm glad Stark saved my life, but I've never felt this watched. I can barely sneeze without having Jarvis asking if I need a tissue."

After his encounter with Finch, John had always known he was "being watched", but having the Machine tracking him felt safe. The time they had to hide from the cameras because Samaritan had taken over had been a real nightmare. It was kind of nice knowing someone was watching after you after all, especially when you knew your own friend what keeping an eye out for you. But here, Jarvis seemed to keep an eye over everything. And the English butler's accent added to the feeling that he couldn't scratch his nose without it being reported.

Matt remained silent for a moment.

"What?" John finally asked.

"I know we have this sort of agreement not to ask questions, but still… I mean I don't even know your name, John."

"John is my real name." He chuckled at Matt's raised eyebrow. "Really. It is the most common name in the world after all. With origins as old as yours, Matthew."

"You are really getting better John. We're back to our old habits of secrecy."

John smiled slightly. He was wondering when Matt would finally ask him to keep his promise. He was in no hurry; he had nothing if not time. It was going to be months before he could step a foot out of this tower…

* * *

 

"Damn!" John exclaimed, and bit his lips on a more offensive profanity.

He had been trying to reach a book on a shelf but couldn't quite reach it so he had tried to lift his body but it wouldn't cooperate.

Gritting his teeth against the litany of expletives he wanted to yell, he closed his eyes and gripped the armrests of his chair. Having to cope with his diminished strength was the hardest part of it. And the fear that it would be permanent scared him more than the death he had faced every day during his time in the army or the CIA.

"It takes time, John." The soft voice of Matt reached him from the other side of the room. He had just entered the room and witnessed John's situation. He didn't need eyes to know what was going on.

"How do you manage?" John couldn't help asking. They had never discussed Matt's blindness, but he knew the young man would understand his question.

"I'm just grateful to be alive," he answered almost automatically.

"Yeah, that's what they taught you to say until it became second nature. What about the truth?"

John turned his chair around and moved towards the window. Matt shrugged and went to sit in the chair just beside him...

"I answered too fast? You didn't buy it?" he asked with a smile.

"I…" John hesitated for a moment. They usually didn't address personal topics, but the last weeks had been so different… "Don't you regret it? I mean, I know that you see that… how did you put it again? 'World of fire', but actually not seeing things…"

Matt sighed deeply and turned his head toward the window.

"Most of the time, I don't even think about it. It's been so long I have almost forgotten. I mean, I remember how things look, what colors are for example. But after so long, they kind of… don't exist anymore? They're like a dream, a story. I believe in them because I know they are true. Much like I believe in God… But there's as much faith in it as real knowledge."

He put his hand on the window.

"But sometimes, I'd give anything to see again. Karen's face, the color of the sky. I can perfectly imagine what the sky looks like right now given the time of the day. Red hues turning purple on the horizon. Buildings catching the last strays of light and reflecting it like a laser…" He turned towards John. "I've got a pretty good imagination. But it's not the real thing…"

John looked at the sky. Matt was right. The sun was setting and the colors were amazing. It would make a wonderful painting, but how did you put colors into words?

"What brought this on?" Matt asked hoping to enable John to talk. He had perfectly understood the problem, but John needed to voice his fears in order to face them and move forward.

John looked at his left hand. It was still in a cast and he couldn't move it. And that was one of his most minor injuries.

"My body is a wreck and I don't know if I can live with it."

"John, it's only been a few weeks. You know it's going to take several months to recover."

"What if I don't?"

"I'll tell you what they told me. Be grateful that you are alive."

"What if I need to spend the rest of my life in this chair?"

There, he had said it. Matt smiled inwardly. John had finally admitted his fear.

"You don't know that. And even if, there are so many things you can do."

John scoffed.

"John, I'm blind! I rely on people to tell me that my suit is indeed black and not red!" Matt turned around to face John. "Maybe it is time for you to let people get close, help you. Human beings are not meant to live alone."

Of course, technically John had lost his friends since he was dead, but Matt was pretty sure Finch wouldn't bat an eye if John just showed up one day.

In the end we are all alone… John had thought that to be true for a long time. Letting others get close was still against his deepest nature.

"Give yourself some slack. Enjoy one day at the time." Matt smiled. "Come on, you're living in the Avengers Tower. Some people would kill just to get in the entrance hall!"

"Haven't seen any of them except for Stark," John admitted.

"See? Let's make that your next goal, get to meet and talk with them. I'm sure you have lots of topics to discuss."

"Not so sure about that."

"Of course you do. You could talk about death with Steve Rogers for example…" Matt teased.

John chuckled slightly shaking in head. He was glad Matt was around so much, it made life easier.

"And you could always give them some advice."

"Me?"

"You did advise me to talk to Karen", Matt reminded him.

"I think you had already made the decision, Matt. You just needed the final push."

"Maybe…"

"So how did it go? From what you told me about her, I don't think it went that smoothly."

"It's a good thing there weren't any weapons in the office…"

"That good, huh?"

Matt looked in John's direction. He was glad he had been able to boost his spirits a little. He was bound to feel low again in the future, but if he could help him fight then he was glad to be of assistance. Even if it meant telling him every embarrassing detail about his fight with Karen when he had told her the truth.

* * *

 

John was sitting in his chair and reading. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. It reminded him of the Library, when grabbing a book had never been easier. He still missed that old building. The subway station always felt colder. And being underground had a tendency to put him slightly on edge. He always felt a little trapped.

The mobile phone on the bed side table ringed.

John looked at it in surprise. He had almost forgotten about it. And who would be calling him?

He picked up the smartphone and opened his eyes wide in surprise as the caller ID appeared on the screen.

THORNHILL

So much for Stark's guarantees that the phone was totally encrypted.

He opened the call.

"Root?" he said.

"No." The voice seemed to hesitate for a second. "But you may call me that if you wish so."

The screen name changed to ROOT.

"No!" Root's death was still too fresh to have her name appearing on his phone. "Thornhill is perfect as an identification."

The screen changed back to the previous name.

The Machine was calling him directly. It still bothered him slightly that the AI had chosen to speak with Root's voice. It made sense, but made the connection the human and the computer had all the more upsetting.

"I'm afraid I'm not available to help you with the numbers at the time being," he said. He doubted this was a social call. How "human" was the AI?

"I realize your situation and I am satisfied that your health is upgrading in the right direction."

"You're glad I'm not dead," John translated. "Thank you for saving my life."

He was almost afraid to ask, but the Machine was probably the only entity capable of letting him know if Finch had made it. He was seriously wounded after all. John was still a bit mad that Harold had hidden that from him.

"How is Harold?" he asked.

"Out of danger and in Italy."

"Grace," John whispered. So Finch had decided to go back to the love of his life. John smiled in happiness, really glad for his friend. At least something good had come out of this disaster.

"And what about Samaritan?"

"Disabled and destroyed."

Perfect. The danger had been adverted, he would rest more peacefully.

"Why are you calling me? You surely know that my chances of ever being able to be in the field again are minute."

That was putting it mildly. Of course, around him everyone cheered him for his progress, but he wasn't oblivious. He would consider himself highly fortunate if he could just walk without a cane.

"Your wounds are still too fresh to allow for a definitive assessment. And you are in the best place in the world to be treated. Stark Inc research is the best in the country."

Of course, considering what Stark had in his chest to keep him alive…

"Why are you calling me, Ro…?" He had almost called the Machine Root.

"I can work without an Admin now, but I need assets to carry out the interventions.

"Don't you have anyone else to go after the numbers?"

"Yes, of course. The team in Washington is very capable. As well as Ms Shaw with the canine asset. But as my creator once said, the numbers never stop. More assets would be helpful."

"Is this a job interview?"

There was a moment of silence as the Machine clearly studied the answer. Humor was probably something that Harold hadn't programmed.

"No. Just telling you that you still have your job once you are totally healed from your injuries."

"It's going to take months."

"Considering there will be humans on the planet for several million years that is not relevant."

John couldn't help a chuckle. "I'll think about it."

"Thank you. Take care of your heath." The Machine disconnected the call without any further greeting.

"You've still got some work to do on the relationship department, Thornhill", John whispered putting the phone back on the table.

Did he want to go back helping the numbers? It wouldn't be the same without Harold in his ear…

But deep inside he knew his decision was made. There was no way he would let people die if there was a remote chance that he could do something. The way Finch had convinced him the very first time had made it obvious that he needed to feel useful.

And it gave him the additional necessary boost to work on his recovery. It was going to be a long time before he could walk, but now he knew why he needed to.

* * *

 

"I went to your funeral," Matt informed him.

They had been sitting together for a few minutes. Sometimes, Matt refrained from telling John about his adventures of the night. He had realized that although thoroughly enjoying it, it also made it very obvious that John couldn't even walk for the moment. The choice of topics of discussion was, as usual between them, a bit complicated.

"I… huh… thanks, I guess." John frowned. How were you supposed to reply to a sentence you were never meant to hear?

"It was nice. Not many people, but I got to meet some of your friends."

"Not much of a crowd then."

"Did you know Zoe was jealous of Iris?" Matt asked, then faced John. "You never told me about her."

"Not much to tell…" John shook his head slightly. "No need for Zoe to feel jealous though."

"Yes, that's what I told her."

"What?"

"That was fun. She's still probably trying to figure out what we were… are." Matt winced slightly. "Grammar gets tricky. You know there's a sort of agreed rule about how many times a human can die."

"Really."

"Yeah, common average is one."

"Well, I seem to remember your religion being based on one guy who pulled it off."

Matt chuckled shaking his head. "You intend to improve your average again?"

"Not if I can help it. It is kind of painful." John seemed to think about it for a second. "Both emotionally and physically."

"You're doing better every day, John."

"How would you know?"

Matt turned his head slowly and raised an eyebrow.

John smiled. "Sorry. I forgot about the built-in sensors for a minute."

Matt laughed out loud.

"The built-in sensors?" He shook his head in amusement. "You've got me mixed up with the other guys in this place." He tilted his head his senses opened to catch John' reaction, and said. "And you are the one who cheated death several times."

"How do you…?" John exclaimed in surprise, then smiled when he realized he had been played. "You're smart Matt."

"So. Will you tell me about it?"

"Yeah, probably. I mean, most of the people involved at that time are dead, so…"

"Were you part of some kind of witness protection program?"

"Oh no, nothing of the sort. My superiors at the CIA decided that I was to be retired."

"And I guess, their modus operandi is not by asking you to clean your desk and pick up your check at the HR department."

"They actually set it up quite nicely. Sent me and my partner to China to secure a package. I had been instructed to retire her, and it turned out that she had received the same order. And they wanted the package destroyed, so, sort of one stone three birds…"

"How did you make it?"

"Last second realization of what was going on, sheer dumb luck… and a pretty serious injury."

"And you disappeared, letting them think they had achieved their aim."

"People won't hunt you if they think you are dead. Even got my star at Langley. Of course, it turned out my partner wasn't killed either, but that's another story."

John fell silent and Matt understood that he wouldn't be more forthcoming on that particular topic.

They remained silent for a long moment.

"So, you're going back to do what you used to?" Matt asked softly.

"Is that a not so subtle way to remind me that I promised you to tell you the truth?" John asked with a hint of a smile. He had been wondering when Matt would finally ask him.

Matt laughed. "I let you off the hook at the cemetery since you had told me 'if I make it out alive'… But now that you're back… and doing much better."

"You've been wanting to ask me from the first day I woke up but waited until you were sure that I was going to survive?"

Matt shrugged slightly. "I realize it's not that easy for you. Fighting to get your strength and health back seemed more important."

"You are a good man, Matt Murdock."

John seemed to ponder his answer for a moment.

"Let's go to the roof," he said, turning his wheel chair toward the door.

Matt went to the bed and picked up a blanket. "Here. It is quite cold outside; you're going to need this."

They reached the top level and John rolled his chair toward the edge. If he was going to talk, he wanted to be sure there would be as few listening ears as possible.

Behind him Matt gasped. John turned his chair. The young man had stopped after a couple of steps.

"Matt, if you tell me you have a problem with heights, I'm not going to believe you," John threatened.

Matt seemed to come out of his stupor and chuckled.

"No, I don't. It's just… This building is much taller than the ones in Hell's Kitchen's... I just realized I have never been so high up. Not since my dad took me to the Empire State building when I was a kid."

"I remember thinking I was at the top of the world. The view was spectacular." He walked slowly toward John. "It's amazing. The air feels different; the noises are so muted up here." He moved his hand in the air as if he could touch the sky.

He breathed in deeply. "This is nice."

The view was indeed spectacular. The night had fallen a short while ago; the sky was still a deep blue shade. The lights of the buildings shone brightly. The bridges over the East river seemed to leap over nothingness before merging into more lights.

The air was cold and John appreciated the blanket Matt had gotten for him. Cooped up inside the tower, he had almost forgotten that it was still winter outside. Life was continuing in the real world, even if he wasn't part of it.

"I like rooftops. Of course, in my line of work they're the perfect spot to watch people," John explained.

"Spy on them."

"Not necessarily. When I met you I told you I was there to protect you, remember?"

"Yes. I never understood where you came from or where you had gotten the information."

John sighed. He had already told Matt how Finch had given him a job, explained that he helped people.

"I've been coming up here when I need to feel alone. This is about the only place in this tower where I can escape the doctors and nurses..."

Matt didn't react at the non-sequitur. He could tell John was fighting his natural instincts to bring himself to talk about that part of his life. If it took some detours, Matt would wait; he had all the time in the world.

"When Finch found me I was going to the Brooklyn Bridge…"

Matt gasped a little but refrained from reacting further; it was clear from the way John had said it he wasn't going there for the view. As a Catholic, he had been taught that suicide was unacceptable, it was a mortal sin; as a man he was more conflicted, understanding the sadness and despair that brought some people to such a decision. Imagining that the world may have lost someone as good as John was overwhelming.

"He gave me a job… a purpose, a reason to live. I realized a few months after that I was actually happy. Glad to do good and help people. So different from what I used to do. I was feeling like maybe I could find redemption for all the lives I had ended."

"And you're afraid you won't be able to do that anymore…" Matt whispered. He was almost afraid to talk. John had never been this open.

"If I can't, what am I going to do?"

Even though John had said it coldly enough, Matt could feel the edge of panic underneath the words.

"But you will John. It may take time, but if there is one place where they can find a way to help you, this is the one. Considering their research and techniques, I'm sure they can invent something to replace any capability that you may not recover."

John chuckled slightly. "Yes, that's what she said…"

"She?"

"Technically, she is an 'it', but Root always considered her female."

Thousands of questions went through Matt's head, but he refrained from asking. John was taking a weird detour to tell him, but apparently he was about to finally tell him the truth.

"You see, Matt, we are being watched. There is a Machine…"

* * *

 

THE END

* * *

 

And the ride is over, totally this time. It was fun getting to write one last time about our boys.

Thank you again for your praise, comments and following this series. Please let me know what you thought of this series


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